


Moment By Moment

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Category: NSYNC
Genre: Celebrity Era, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-18
Updated: 2004-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-02 04:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time is not measured by a watch, but by moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moment By Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fortune's Five challenge, with the fortune cookie prompt _Time is not measured by a watch, but by moments._

As moments went, Justin thought, this one was some whack combination of Kodak and "bury it deepdeepdeep somewhere and never speak of it again." Whenever anyone asked, Justin always told the truth: Britney was the first girl he'd kissed. Not mentioning that he kissed boys, too, or that JC had been the first one, wasn't really a lie, it was merely a part of himself he didn't need to share with the media. Or anyone, really, but still, he kind of thought the guys might have figured it out.

Especially since he'd talked to them about it. All of them. Sort of.

It wasn't as if JC was the _only_ guy Justin had ever kissed. But he'd done it more than once, so that counted for extra, he was certain, even if he wasn't entirely sure JC remembered any of them. For years, Justin had actually been happy to think that. Getting drunk and kissing one of your closest friends was one of those things best left unremembered. Doing it twice was asking for trouble, and three times was tempting fate, but fortunately--or so Justin had thought each morning after--nothing had ever happened. JC hadn't changed how he treated Justin, hadn't ever said anything, and life had progressed with only the dramas of the five guys living on top of each other and the lawsuit and the insane pace of record-tour-record.

But recently, Justin started wondering whether JC not remembering was really what Justin wanted. Britney was, well, gone, and back, and gone again, and as hurt and angry--furious--as he'd been, he was suddenly faced with life not as half of a couple--however mythical that had actually been--but as someone who could pick and choose who to date. That was when he'd broached the topic with Lance. Of course, Lance might have been a little distracted, what with the strippers and the whipped cream and the bottle of vodka they were splitting at the time, but Justin clearly remembered talking guys and girls and old friends and that very weird moment when you realized that someone you'd grown up with wasn't just the metaphorical kid next door, so Lance could just pick his jaw up off the ground anytime now.

Then, there was Joey. Joey had always been his Yoda in matters of the heart, even when there was less heart and more dick involved. Maybe especially then, so Joey'd heard a lot from Justin over the years, and had dispensed much advice. Even if Justin hadn't precisely come out and said who he'd kissed, Joey, of all people, knew Justin had started thinking guys were maybe as interesting as girls very early on.

And Chris, _Chris_, for God's sake. Chris heard more shit from Justin than anyone, and was always happy to bitch and moan about having to listen to late-night video game marathon confessions, so there was no need for the stunned look on his face at this particular moment. Justin knew Chris had been listening; he _always_ listened, if only so he could mock later.

In fact, the only person in the room with whom Justin hadn't really discussed his somewhat disconcerting attraction to JC was JC himself, and considering that Justin had one buck-naked, blue-eyed tenor wrapped around him at the moment, he didn't think the actual telling had gone down too badly.

The other bozos, though…they were standing in the doorway, doing their best to look anywhere but the king-sized bed in Justin's hotel room, and, while it was a nice hotel--they were looooong past the days when a Holiday Inn was reason for celebration--it was still a hotel. There really wasn't much to look at.

"Guys," JC said, and Justin shivered at how he could feel JC's voice as much as he could hear it, the vibrations of that one simple word weaving under and around the steady rhythm of JC's heart against Justin's chest. Even better was the quick dance of breath across the damp skin of Justin's collarbone.

JC paused to smile down at Justin, and that lazy grin had the blood pounding through Justin in the space of two heartbeats, and only JC's words, "The door, guys? Close it, okay?" stopped Justin from grinding up into JC. The guys, well, seeing as how they were in his room uninvited, Justin didn't really care if they minded or not, but giving anyone walking down the hall just then a free show was an entirely different matter.

"On your way _out_," Justin said, but it was too late. The door slammed behind Lance, and there they all were, and if this wasn't the stupidest way to end a spectacularly hot, if entirely unplanned, encounter, Justin didn't want to know what could top it. Joey was going to dislocate something trying to keep his eyes off of C's ass, and Lance and Chris were carrying on one of their wordless conversations that involved a ridiculous amount of eye-rolling and brow-arching, and it was all too much for Justin to deal with.

"What?" he snapped, as he reached around JC to pull the sheet up. JC didn't seem to mind how low it had slipped but Justin thought a little modesty wasn't a bad idea. "I have it on pretty good authority that all of y'all have had sex before; you're not seeing anything new, so what is your problem?"

Chris bounced up on his toes and smirked at Lance. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Bass, but your rock-solid theory of why the fuck the kid's been bugging the shit out of all of us lately, it didn't include JC, did it?"

"It was a theory," Lance drawled. "A hypothesis. It was a good one, too; all the available evidence fit it. It's not my fault J can't hold his booze worth shit and can't speak in coherent sentences after three or four shots."

Justin was working up the energy to be offended, but then JC shiftedslitheredslid and ended up pressed full-length along Justin's side, and Justin suddenly didn't care what Lance said about him.

"Joe," JC said, patting the bed. "Come sit, cat, before you fall down."

Justin nearly strained something trying not to laugh at the horror on Joey's face. Only JC would think that inviting another someone to share your bed in a situation like this wasn't even a little dicey, but Justin didn't have to look at JC to know he was serious. Neither did Joey, and that was even funnier.

What wasn't funny was the glare Joey shot Justin as he settled himself gingerly on the side of the bed.

"What do you think you're doing, man?" Joey whispered furiously. "You're rebounding so high right now that Lance isn't going to pass you until he's ten minutes into that rocket trip, and you think it's okay to play with him?" He jerked his head toward JC, who was still very much trying to share skin with Justin, but was mostly distracted by whatever argument Lance and Chris were embroiled in.

Justin sobered up fast, because Joey didn't mess around when he got that look in his eye, and Justin wasn't going to be able to joke his way out of this one. "I'm not," he said, as seriously as he knew how. "Playing," he added, because there really wasn't anyway he could deny the rebound part, but this didn't feel like something he was doing just to take his mind off Britney and the whole mess.

"I know I've been telling you to go out and have some fun," Joey said, "but this was _not_ what I had in mind."

Justin was trying hard to think how to reassure Joey that this wasn't doing to be a disaster, when JC rolled back over and said, "Peace, Joe. J and me, we're cool."

"Just like that?" Joey snapped his fingers. "I know you, man. You don't do one night stands, and you don't do buddy fucks, and I'm supposed to believe that you thought a little sport-fucking was in order because Justin's going through a rough time? I don't think so, C."

There was definitely something unsaid going on between the two of them, but then Chris snorted and said, "Yeah, well maybe C just took pity on him," and pure ice trickled through Justin's veins, because yes, JC would do something like that, would go along with whatever he thought would make Justin feel better.

Chris was looking at him steadily, and Justin realized Chris _had_ been paying attention, at least enough to get that this was something Justin wanted, and maybe he'd understood, more than Justin had, just how much.

JC reached out and thwapped the back of Chris' head. "No," he said, stretching lazily. "No pity fuck." His other hand slid slowly up Justin's thigh. "Not hardly," he added, and Justin wanted to believe him so badly he wasn't sure he should trust himself.

"You sure about that, C?" Chris said, not giving an inch. "Because if it is, it'll hurt a lot less to find that out right now than it will six months from now, when you give him the 'really good friends' talk."

Joey snorted. "Yeah, like that's going to happen," and JC split his glare between them both.

_Say something, moron_, Justin thought, but the after-sex high was so far gone he could barely remember it. He was cold and naked, and still more than half-afraid that Chris was right. JC was pressed up close against him, but the enormity of what Justin had done this night was crashing down on him, and there might as well have been a football field between them. What had possessed him to invite JC to split a room-service pizza and then press him down onto the bed and kiss him until they were both dizzy? Stone-cold sober this time, not even a beer, and not only kissing but, Jesus, _sex_, and he couldn't think of a thing to do to make this stop.

"Joe," JC snapped. "Enough. I appreciate the concern, but back off." JC leaned up on one elbow and pushed the hair off his forehead. "And you, man," he said, glaring at Chris, "can drop the pity fuck idea any time now." He stared Chris down uncompromisingly before turning to Lance. "You got anything to add to this, Bass? Let's get it all out there now, so I don't have to listen to this crap after tonight."

Lance shrugged. "All I've got is the mostly rhetorical stuff. Like, are you two insane? I mean, I know we've only got a couple weeks left on this tour, but seriously. Half the photographers in the free world would be willing to sell their mothers' souls to snap the shot that confirms for real that he's split with Britney and you two are in here screwing?"

Justin almost nodded, because Lance had a point about the paparazzi, and insanity explained a lot, but he wasn't sure what JC would do to him if he agreed with Lance, so he kept still.

JC eyed Chris, Joey, and then, Lance, in turn. "Have we covered everything?" he said in that calm, even tone that meant all hell was about to break loose. Chris noticed it, too; Justin saw him edging away from the bed. "Good," JC continued. "Then, thanks for your support, and you can all get out. _Now_," and the ice in his voice was enough to send all of them scrambling for the door. Justin almost joined them, but managed not to make that much of an ass out of himself.

"Leave the spare key," JC snapped. "And next time, fucking _knock_ before you walk into somebody else's room."

JC turned back to Justin, and his kiss was hard and hungry, as if he hadn't just fucked Justin through the expensive hotel mattress. "This doesn't have a thing to do with pity," he growled, and Justin finally pulled himself together enough to get his arms around JC.

He thought later that it felt like trying to hold fire and ice, but right then, he just slid his fingers into the curls JC had let grow out, and kissed back with everything he didn't know the words for.

*

JC was gone when Justin woke up. There was a perfectly good reason for that: he and Joey were covering an in-studio at whatever radio station was sponsoring that night's concert. That, of course, didn't stop Justin's brain from throwing out scenarios that ranged from bad to downright disastrous. After all, he'd _slept_ with _JC_. It was still almost unthinkable. He forced himself to shower and find a pair of sweats, optimistically deciding breakfast wasn't a bad idea. Chris was still asleep, which was no big surprise, but Lance, of all people, was hanging out in the suite, reading the paper and watching _The View_ while he picked at the remains of a room-service breakfast.

Justin eased into the chair opposite him. When he looked up and saw Lance watching him with a smirk on his face, he blushed, but lifted his chin defiantly. So what if he was moving cautiously this morning?

Lance shook his head and turned back to the TV, pretending to let Justin eat his cereal in peace. Normally, Justin was stubborn enough to play along, but this morning, he ate three bites and sighed. "What, Bass?"

Lance snorted. "Two weeks. Not even that long... Twelve days. That's it; that's all we have to get through, and we get some breathing space, and what? You went crazy from not getting any for a month and jumped C? You couldn't have waited?"

"Love you, too, man," Justin answered snidely, and met Lance's glare head-on.

"Sorry," Lance said finally, and had the grace to look a little abashed. "I'm just tired," he added. "But, c'mon, Justin, this has enough potential for disaster to fill up three hours of _Behind the Music_."

"It's not like I planned it," Justin mumbled. "I just, he was there, we were on the bed, and he had pizza everywhere, and I don't know, I kissed him."

"And didn't stop," Lance said.

"Like you would have," Justin snorted, and grinned at the slow smile that spread across Lance's face. "And for the record, I can too hold my vodka, it's more that you can tune me out like nobody else."

Lance laughed at that. "No, no, I heard you; this was all you and your metaphors about cocoons and butterflies."

"We were in a _strip club_, yo. I was being discreet."

"And you thought that was an appropriate place to share your secret, why?" Lance snickered. "Next time, try someplace a little less, I don't know, _public_, dumbass, and maybe I'll figure out what you mean."

"Well, who the hell did you think I was talking about?" Justin asked indignantly, because, really, it wasn't as if there were all that many people to choose from.

"Honestly?" Lance's grin was pure evil; that should have tipped Justin off right then and there, but it was morning and he'd been fucked within an inch of his life the night before and he wasn't at his best. When he took the bait and nodded, though, Lance just leaned back in his chair, humming a vaguely familiar tune. Justin was about to ask him again, when the words snapped into his head and he sang along involuntarily, "_...genie in a bott_\--holy fuck, you thought I was talking about Christina? _Aguilera_?"

Lance laughed. "Chris is never gonna let me live that one down, but you've known her forever, her voice gives you chills, and she has arguably blossomed." He ticked off the points one by one and stared at Justin expectantly.

"Man, I'm not the only one who can't hold his vodka, if you came up with that," Justin muttered.

"I think we're just about done here," Lance said, and Justin had to agree. Him and Lance rarely, if ever dealt well with each other in the morning. A rational conversation about a topic as sensitive as Justin and JC naked in bed together was pretty much a miracle. "Be careful, okay?" Lance continued. "With JC. And with yourself." He stood up and brushed the crumbs off his pants. "Seriously, you've been holding it together really well, a whole hell of a lot better than I think any of the rest of us would have, but cut yourself some slack. Don't jump into this with C before you figure out where you are, _who_ you are now." Justin heard the _post-Britney_ Lance didn't say as clear as a bell.

"I think I already did," Justin confessed. "Jump."

"Yeah, I kinda figured," Lance sighed. "Maybe you could think about keeping your eyes open on the way down?"

"Do you think it was really that stupid of me?" Justin asked quietly. Lance would tell him, straight up, no punches pulled. He was almost positive he was ready to hear the answer, but when Lance shrugged, Justin was so surprised at the not-negative reaction he couldn't say a word.

"Maybe a little unrealistic, given who you are, and who he is, and where we all are right now, but, I'm about to go talk to the Russian space people. What do I know about realistic?" Lance grinned and ducked out of the room, leaving Justin to try to figure out some kind of a plan to get through the day.

*

Chris caught up with Justin in the hotel health club, right in the middle of his last mile on the treadmill, and threw a bottle of water on him. It actually felt pretty damn good, enough that Justin didn't feel the need to threaten him, just pulled his shirt up and wiped his face and kicked the treadmill up another half mile per hour.

"Unnatural," Chris groused.

"Freak," Justin panted in return.

Chris made a grab for the treadmill controls but Justin slapped his hand away before he could do anything like double the pace and cackle while Justin tried not to fall off.

"Seen anybody this morning?" Chris said casually.

Justin knew what Chris was asking, but didn't see any need to make anything easier after the previous night's debacle, so he answered, "Lance. Breakfast."

Chris nodded and leaned against the next treadmill. "C and Joe are back from the radio station."

"'s good." Justin kept his pace steady and didn't look away from Chris, and hoped the back flips his stomach was doing didn't show on his face.

Chris crossed his arms over his chest and gave Justin the deeply suspicious look, the one that meant Justin was either going to spill his guts right then or spend the rest of the day convincing Chris that everything was absolutely perfect in his corner of the world. Which Justin would be glad to start doing, once he figured out what the hell was actually going on.

Chris didn't let up on the glare; Justin knew he should ignore it and keep running, but he couldn't help it, Chris had some sort of freakish mind-control thing with him. It worked the other way, too, like when no one could figure out what had Chris so sullen and Justin stared at him for three minutes and Chris confessed that Dani and he had split, but that wasn't much comfort to Justin. He slapped off the treadmill and bent over, trying to catch his breath.

"No," Justin said. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Chris smacked Justin lightly on the back of his head. "Color me shocked," he said. "C's still giving me the glare of injured pride and hurt feelings, so I think we can eliminate the mercy fuck angle. Sorry to have even brought it up, but it needed to be out in the open."

Justin looked up, still panting, and shrugged. "Your timing sucks, man. I got about five minutes of afterglow."

Chris laughed. "Damn, then it's a good thing Lance couldn't fucking figure out where his clean shirts were, or we'd have been walking in the door in time to find out in person if C's a screamer or a moaner."

"Thankyoujesus," Justin said.

"You said it," Chris agreed. "I'm not sure how the hell I'm getting on the bus with the two of you tonight as it is."

Justin kept his legs straight and leaned the rest of the way down to put his hands on the floor and stretch out his hamstrings and, not so incidentally, hide his face so Chris wouldn't see that he wasn't sure how he was going to deal with the bus either.

"Justin," Chris said sharply, and Justin realized Chris had been trying to get his attention. He stood up and rested his hands on his hips, and tried to look as though he didn't have a thing on his mind. Chris sighed. "I've been reliably informed that you're an adult now, and capable of choosing your own bed partners, so I'm only going to say this once. I know we've only got two weeks to go, and I'm not sure where your head's at, with the shitstorm that's been your personal life lately, and the solo stuff, but don't let all that distract you from what really happened last night." Justin took a deep breath, but Chris held up his hand. "And no, trust me, I don't want to know, okay? I just want _you_ to be paying attention. Got it?"

Justin nodded and let Chris push him in the general direction of the elevators so he could shower before sound check.

*

Justin was primed for anything, he thought; ready for any reaction on JC's part, except, of course, for the one he got: no reaction at all. It was their second night in Boston so there weren't any load-in problems, sound check went like clockwork, warm-ups were routine, and by the time Justin got wired up and miked, and found his way to the Quiet Room, he didn't know what to think, except that he'd never hated a normal tour day quite so much. There was no awkwardness, no strain. JC was JC, so completely ordinary that Justin had to think hard to connect the guy giggling helplessly at one of Joey's lame jokes with the one who'd pinned Justin's wrists over his head and fucked him slow and hard and deep, fucked him until he was out of his mind from the feel of it all.

And then, of course, there was the dawning realization that, given that there was no way JC didn't remember the night before, and was acting exactly like he always had, it was pretty hard to continue thinking that JC had ever actually forgotten Justin's awkward, fumbling kisses.

Justin hesitated in the doorway when he saw that Joey was the only one in the Quiet Room. Normally, that was a good thing--Joey was calm and laid-back before a show. Just being around him let Justin find his center and focus, no matter how distracting the day had been. And lately, there had been too many nights when it took everything Justin had to block out the anger and the hurt enough to find the energy to perform, and Joey had been there for him, no matter how long it took. But Joey hadn't been at all happy with Justin the night before, and Justin knew Joey never let something like that go.

Joey shook his head, though, motioning Justin in. "I'm not gonna bite, man. Stop hovering." Justin took another step, letting the door close quietly behind him, and tried not to let Joey stare him down.

"I've already heard it from Chris and Lance, Joe. You don't need to tell me--"

"Yeah, I do," Joey interrupted. He shook his head. "You don't get it, do you?"

"I get it, okay? We're two weeks from taking a break, my timing sucks, nobody wants to have to deal with inter-band fucking, why couldn't I have kept my dick to myself. Did I miss anything?" Justin had sworn to himself that he was going to deal calmly with whatever happened as a result of actually sleeping with JC, but he hadn't counted on JC completely blowing things off either; and he really didn't want to think about why that was bugging him so much.

Joey rapped his knuckles against Justin's forehead. "Hello? Pity, party of one? Your table is ready." Justin flushed, and dropped his eyes. "You get that part, but that's not what's important."

"I'm not--I wasn't just playing, okay?" It was easy to meet Joey's eyes on that. "I don't know what C's doing, but I--last night wasn't just me getting my rocks off." It was the truth; even if Justin didn't know exactly what it was, he knew it wasn't that.

"Yeah, okay," Joey sighed. "I guess we've lived through worse." As endorsements went, it was hardly ringing, but Justin was too relieved that Joey seemed to be letting him off the hook to quibble. "But you," Joey poked Justin hard in the arm, "man, you need to figure out the important stuff, because there's a whole lot more at stake than whether we have a nice couple of weeks here."

Justin nodded obediently, even though he was confused, but Joey didn't say anything more, just started the familiar pre-show routine.

*

Justin was in the shower before the bus even started moving after the concert. This last month, it wasn't even about getting clean physically as much as an attempt to wash away the anger he couldn't show onstage, the flat-out fucking fury that threatened to boil out of him every single time the band cued up _Celebrity_ or _Pop_, let alone _Gone_. Someone was looking out for him tonight, though; the water was hot, not just lukewarm, and he let it take away all that it could.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, JC was in the galley, going through the refrigerator in his normal post-show feeding frenzy, but Chris was nowhere to be found, and an ugly suspicion grew to certainty in Justin's mind. He curled up in his bunk with his cell phone.

"Fucker," he hissed, as soon as Chris answered.

"Hey, hi, Justin, I'm fine, how are you?"

"You just couldn't stay out of it, could you?"

"Funny, J, I thought that was exactly what I was doing. Staying out of it. Minding my own business, here on the bus of _brotherly_ love."

"Shit, shit, shit," Justin moaned. "What did you say to C? What does he think is going on?"

"Jesus, spare me the fucking drama," Chris answered. "I didn't say anything to him, just told Damian I was riding the other bus. I told you this morning; you need to be paying attention, and if I'm there, you'll just fire up the X-Box and C'll go listen to music in his bunk and the two of you will figure out fifty different reasons why it's better not to talk and that'll be it."

"I fucking hate you, Kirkpatrick," Justin said, but he sounded pretty unconvincing even to his own ears. Chris made a rude noise and the line went dead.

The shower was running again, so it didn't matter if Justin stayed in his bunk for an extra few minutes. He wasn't hiding; he was just trying to think of something--anything--to say. Chris was right, not that Justin was ever going to admit that in public; it would be way too easy to keep playing like nothing had happened, but this time, this tour, this everything had an end date.

When the shower turned off, Justin forced himself out of the relative safety of his bunk and back into the lounge, determined to pay attention, figure out the important stuff, and keep his eyes open on the way down.

*

All his good intentions fell apart the second JC stepped through the doorway, still damp from the shower, hair curling wildly, wearing nothing but a pair of faded jeans and his Leo pendant, and Justin _wanted_. Pure, clean, simple desire. He didn't move, but he didn't have to; it was written all over his face, he knew. JC hesitated before stepping all the way into the lounge and closing the door behind him. He never took his eyes off Justin once he started across the space.

Everything had a slow-motion feel to it--inexorable, Justin thought, remembering the word from the endless bus rides across Texas when boredom forced them into playing travel Scrabble for shots. Justin watched JC cross the small open space and finally acknowledged just how long he'd wanted this. He'd shoved it down, away, kept it hidden from everyone, most especially himself, but it didn't matter. It was still there, and Justin was pretty sure it was never going to go away.

JC paused again, this time so close that Justin could see the flecks of gray in his eyes, see the pulse beating in his throat, Justin waited for him to pull back, to move away, but when he didn't, Justin watched his own hand reach up and curve into the clean, soft curls to pull JC the rest of the way down.

The dreaminess exploded into hot, frantic need the moment JC's mouth touched his. Justin came up off the couch, meeting JC halfway, hands moving greedily over every inch of bare skin, until JC moved against him, pinning him down and taking control of the kiss with assured ease. When Justin could think and breathe again, they were on the floor and his shirt was off and JC was scraping his teeth along the curve of his collarbone. "Chris?" JC growled, in between sharp, fast bites that sent shock waves through nerves Justin hadn't known he had.

"Other bus," Justin panted, and moaned as JC slid his hand into Justin's sweats and around his dick. "Oh, fuck, C, Jesus, that's so good." His mouth was swollen from JC's kisses, his body ached and throbbed from JC's mouth and hands, and right then, that moment, he couldn't make himself care that the entire day had been spent as if nothing like this had ever happened.

Years and years on buses, his entire adolescent and adult life, and Justin had never actually had sex on one. Made out, sure, but nothing even close to turning off the lights and letting JC lay him back on the couch. His pants were gone, somehow, and JC's, and they were skin-to-skin, belly-to-belly, and the low, raw sounds JC made whenever Justin moved were maybe even more exciting than the slow, purposeful roll of JC's hips against his.

JC allowed Justin to touch and stroke, encouraging him to jerk them both off with a control Justin didn't know he had, with a lazy rhythm that left them both trembling. Justin watched JC's face in the dim light that filtered in from the streetlights they passed, listened as JC said, his voice gone soft and hoarse, "Want to fuck you, baby, over and over, like last night, want to be in you so deep you'll never forget, want to hear you beg me for more, feel your legs around me, see you come again and again."

"Please," Justin whispered. "Now, god, please, JC, please," and JC listened, pressing him back onto the couch with deep, rough kisses and sliding two fingers inside him. Justin whimpered at the stretch and burn, almost too much after everything that had happened the night before, and JC heard that, too; heard the edge of pain in Justin's voice, and coaxed him through it with long, slow strokes and more kisses that reached for Justin's soul.

It was completely dark when JC finally pushed slowly into Justin, rocking deeper and deeper until Justin's world narrowed to only those places where JC was. It didn't matter if his eyes were open or closed, but then, he didn't need light to see JC, to know when he was smiling and when he was crying. Justin wrapped himself around JC, held him closer and tighter, kissed the tears from his face, and let JC show him everything he'd promised.

*

Justin really loved that JC was letting his hair grow out. He hadn't had much of an opinion about it twenty-four hours ago, but getting to tangle his fingers in it before, during and after sex had made up his mind pretty strongly in the Yes column. JC was half-purring, half-humming, with his head on Justin's shoulder, and seemed to like having Justin's hands in his hair as much as Justin liked having them there.

Justin felt as if they could stay like that for forever, and when JC tried to pull away, his arms tightened involuntarily.

"C'mon, J, we can't stay here all night."

"Nuh-uh," Justin answered, sleepily. "You'll go away and the other guy will show up tomorrow."

JC laughed and Justin cringed inwardly, because that was definitely not what he'd intended to say. It was all the bus's fault; the familiar, comfortable hum around and under him had lulled him into a doze and his words had spilled out unguarded.

"The other guy?" JC laughed. "Dude, you are out of it."

Eyes wide open, Justin thought. Paying attention. Looking for what's important. Twelve days. If this crashed and burned now, they could live through that many days and then they could figure out what to do from there.

"Yeah," Justin said. "The other guy. The one who doesn't remember this." He shifted his body against JC's and felt the shiver that matched his own. "The one who showed up at sound check, not the one who threw everyone out of the room last night."

JC stayed very still, a counterpoint to the heartbeat slamming against Justin. "No," he said, voice flat. "He remembers. All of it. Every, single moment, starting with your fifteenth birthday party, when you'd just hit a growth spurt and none of your clothes fit for very long so--"

"JC--"

JC shrugged off Justin as if he wasn't there. "--the shirt you were wearing was a little too small, but it was the exact color of your eyes, and even with the peppermint schnapps Chris had gotten you drunk on, I could taste you so sharp--"

Justin rolled left and managed to get JC under him. Joey's voice was hammering in the back of his head, telling him over and over that he didn't get it, that he'd never gotten it, and if it would just shut up for two seconds, he thought he might figure whatever it was out, but JC was still talking and Justin couldn't stop listening.

"You looked at me, and you were so fucking scared of what you'd just done, you were terrified--"

Justin finally resorted to covering JC's mouth with his own, kissing him until he was quiet; and then, kissing him again until they were breathless. "I remember, too," Justin said. "But that was then, and it's different now, right?" He tumbled them off the couch, reaching for the reading light at the end. "Right?"

JC narrowed his eyes against the sudden light, saying, "Is it?" and this time, it was his face that everything was written on and finally, _finally_, everything Joey had been saying to Justin made sense. Justin got it and he had screwed up so bad here, he didn't know which way to turn.

He sank back to sit awkwardly on the floor and couldn't remember the last time he felt so stupid. "Oh, Jesus, my timing does fucking suck."

JC curled up next to Justin, his expression blank, and Justin realized how that must have sounded.

"No, no, C, it's not you, not us, we're good, I swear, it's just, I'm so fucking _angry_. At her, them, but." Justin swallowed hard. "I can't--there isn't--it won't let there be room for anything else. Here." Justin touched his heart. "No matter how much I want there to be."__

"Do you think I don't know that?" JC asked. "I'm with you every day, J; I'm right next to you on stage every night. I'm not out in the audience; I'm two feet away from you. I knew it last night; I knew it an hour ago."

Justin stared at his hands. "Then, why?"

JC laughed. "Well, for starters, it wasn't statutory rape anymore." Justin could feel his face burning and JC touched his shoulder before saying more seriously, "And neither of us was drunk, for once. It was just you and me, and I could have backed off, I guess, but," he shrugged, "I was tired of pretending. You wanted me; I wanted you. I told myself we could handle the fall-out. Which I didn't, not really, but the guys kind of threw me off my game."

"Chris?"

"Chris, I can handle," JC said. "And Lance, too. Joey, though. That's another story. He's such a fucking mother hen sometimes. He gets worried and he's all over you, and man, he was worried the second he walked in the door last night."

"What he said," Justin said. "I'm not, I wasn't just screwing around, but, I don't know when...I mean, what if it's, what if I'm always like this?"

JC bumped shoulders with him. "You won't be. And I'm not saying me, just, somebody."

Justin bent his knees up, so he could wrap his arms around them and rest his forehead on top of them and stayed that way for a long time. When he looked up, though, JC was watching him. Justin looked his lips and said, quietly, "On my birthday, you were wearing a white 'beater 'cause it was so fucking hot in the room. And the time in Munich, it was freezing and we had on so many layers I felt like I was wearing my whole closet, but I could still feel how warm you were, and our last night in Germany, in that club, and with the strobes, it was like you were a ghost, there and gone and there again, and I was drunk but I knew what I was doing, and I was afraid every time that you were going to pat me on the head and tell me I was like your little brother."

JC snorted. "No, not hardly."

"I'm just saying, I want it to be you, dork."

"Yeah, I got that," JC said, smiling. "My generosity in your moving through the healing process with someone else is theoretical at best. I want it to be me, too."

"I want it to be now, but..." Justin scrubbed at his head in frustration.

"What you want and what you can have are two different things."

"That sucks," Justin mumbled.

"It's life," JC said, and Justin couldn't argue with that, as much as he wanted to. "It's not the end of the world, J." JC stood up and offered a hand to Justin. "C'mon, we've got, like, five more hours before we get to the hotel. Sleep is your friend."

Justin let himself be steered out of the lounge to his bunk, and accepted the gentle kiss JC gave him, thankful that it didn't feel like a good-bye, but saddened that it couldn't be anything more than it was. He pulled the privacy curtain and stared, wakeful, into the darkness. He understood the line JC was drawing, understood it and respected it. But he didn't have to like it, or more specifically, himself, for pushing JC to have to draw it in the first place.

*

Justin felt Chris's eyes on him from the second they stepped off the buses, but by some miracle, he was spared the fifth degree nearly the entire day, until they were hanging out in the Toy Room at the venue.

Chris didn't even try to be subtle, just jumped right into it. "I'm not getting a warm, fuzzy, completely fucked-out Mouseketeer vibe from you, Timberlake."

Justin shrugged. "Not that it's any of your business, but, yeah, stuff happened. And then we talked."

"And?"

"And we're kind of ... on hold."

"On account of what?"

"Me being a stupid ass." Justin hesitated, choosing his words carefully. Joey seemed to be the only other person who knew how JC felt; it wasn't Justin's secret to share. "I guess I was just thinking at first that it was just me and C finally finishing off what we've been dancing around for years, but it's really not that."

Justin thought Chris might have something to say, but he just made a 'c'mon, c'mon' gesture with his hands, so Justin continued, feeling his way toward the right words for the crap in his head. "I know, I should have known that from the start, that it's more, but I didn't, and I'm, man, you know how I've been lately. What if I can't do it right? He deserves better than that."

"He does," Chris said. "And that's very commendable of you. Admirable. Chivalrous, even. Gallant and noble and--"

"Fuck off, Kirkpatrick."

"--completely and utterly stupid. I think all the bleach you used to put on the 'fro fucked up your brain chemistry or something." Chris smiled smugly at Justin, and reached over to close his open mouth. "I'm going to use little bitty words, okay? So your head won't explode with trying to understand, 'cause we still have a couple of weeks left where we need you to smile pretty for the cameras."

Justin ground his teeth, but when Chris got like this, it was usually easier to shut up and let him talk and then ignore whatever he said.

"Yesterday," Chris said, not bothering to lower his voice. "When C was all Mr. Ain't-Nothing-To-See-Here-Move-Along, you were... well, if I wasn't feeling charitable, I'd say you were pouting, but since I'm in a semi-good mood here, we'll go with he hurt your feelings."

"I wasn't--"

"Should I call Lance for a second opinion on the vocabulary words?" Chris asked, holding up his cell phone. "Cause I'm pretty sure he'll back me up, and you know Lance. He's not as patient as I am. He might use harsh language."

Justin sighed and Chris put the phone down.

"No? Okay, then. Moving right along, and please, bear in mind that I do not need to hear the details, so your answers to the following questions should remain inside your head. Did you, at any time during the throes of passion, whimper, moan, gasp, wail, scream or otherwise verbalize a name that was not an acceptable variation on Joshua Scott Chasez?"

Justin shook his head and Chris nodded, saying, "When you're," he coughed, "with him, you're with him, right? No distractions, no wishing you were somewhere else, just you and him, yeah?"

Justin nodded, and Chris continued, "I'm not even going to go into the endless fucking mooning that's been going on, because we were all pretty happy that someone had caught your attention. Contrary to public appearances, I do, in fact, have a heart, and I don't enjoy watching my friends get theirs stomped on. Plus, you get a free pass on that 'cause it's not often that Bass blows it as bad as he did with the Christina guess, and while I can see how he came to that conclusion, I look forward to many years of reminding him how very wrong he was."

"You're a real piece of work, man," Justin muttered, but the shitty attitude that had been weighing him down all night and all day was starting to crack.

"So I've been told," Chris answered. "But I'm not finished here yet. The other night, you were fine until I mentioned the pity fuck thing. I don't need to know the answer, but you think about just why that freaked you the hell out. Could it be that you wanted something quite different to result from your taking the relationship to the next level?"

Chris left him alone after that, wandering off to raid the dinner buffet. Justin wasn't surprised; Chris was playing him, he knew that, and he knew now was the time when he was expected to reflect upon the words of wisdom Chris had passed along--to use Chris's own description of the process--and come to the conclusion Chris wanted him to. Plus, the food smelled pretty damn good today and there was no way Chris would pass that up.

"Done thinking yet?" Chris asked, as he sat down next to Justin again, juggling a plate and several bottles of water. Justin took the bottle Chris offered, and eyed the plate suspiciously. There was no telling what Chris would eat, even before a show.

"I don't know what I think," Justin said. "I don't know whether I just fucked everything up or if I did the right thing 'cause I'm so fucked up."

"Don't do the bitter loner thing, man," Chris said. "You're not built for it. Leave that to the experts." Justin elbowed Chris in the ribs; Chris shrugged unapologetically. "I'm not saying you have to be everything to each other, right now, instantaneously; I'm just saying don't sell the two of you short."

Justin found some strawberries buried under the bread and ate a few while he thought. Chris exchanged NHL-related insults with a couple of the riggers before leaving Justin with the plate and going off to "kick Bass's ass" on the X-Box. Joey came in for a minute but got pulled away because the word was out that he had new pictures of Briahna to show off.

When JC walked in, Justin still didn't know what he should do, but he smiled and shifted over on the couch so JC could flop down beside him. At least today, nobody was pretending nothing had happened. It felt good, even if it hadn't worked out perfectly.

"What's for dinner tonight?" JC asked, shamelessly checking out the plate Justin still held.

With a laugh, Justin handed it over, warning, "It came from Chris; don't blame me if you're weirded out by anything."

"I can hear you, Timberlake," Chris yelled from across the room, and when Justin flipped him off, he yelled again, "See you, too. When I finish with the Mississippi freak, your ass is mine."

"How come you're not over there now?" JC asked, delicately separating the green olives from the rest of the salad-type stuff before dipping them in some mustard.

"Thinking," Justin answered, wondering why he even bothered worrying about JC and his cast-iron stomach.

"About?" JC quirked an eyebrow.

"Us," Justin said.

"Oh." JC dropped his eyes and paid careful attention to the plate. Even so, Justin could see the slight flush creep over JC's cheekbones. His thumb itched to smooth over it, trace the high arch until he could slide his whole hand into the wild curls, just once, before hair and makeup got hold of them, and maybe that answered his question right there.

"I didn't know there was an us," JC finally said.

"I think," Justin said slowly, consciously and carefully pushing aside everything that had happened over the last few months to remember how it felt when he was fifteen and how that wasn't all that different than what he was feeling now. "I think there maybe always has been."

Wild hooting and catcalling erupted on the other side of the room, as Lance apparently beat Chris and cut loose with a yell that wouldn't have been out of place at Ole Miss and Chris retaliated with unintelligible screeching until Joey stuck his head back in the room to make fun of them both.

JC rolled his eyes at the chaos, mouthing _Quiet Room_, and they made it past Joey and into the other dressing room without getting stopped. Justin made sure the door locked behind them, then leaned against it, for insurance. They didn't have much time before they needed to be getting dressed and made-up and miked for the show, and he wasn't taking any chances with accidental interruptions.

JC was right in front of him, distractingly close but not touching. "What changed?" he asked.

"Nothing," Justin said, honestly. "Chris said some things, but it was stuff I already knew. He just cut through the crap."

JC half-laughed. "He's good at that."

"Yeah, when it's not his issues," Justin muttered, then shook his head. "C. I don't--it feels like I'm jerking you around here and I don't want that. I--it freaks me out just how much, how long I've wanted this, and I'm really not sure I can handle that right now."

Joey yelled, "C'mon, ladies, time to get pretty," and banged on the door, and Justin wanted to scream in frustration. There was never any time.

"Yeah, we got it," JC yelled back, and then stepped forward so that he was pressed up against Justin. "Why don't we try this," JC said, one hand coming up to curve around the back of Justin's head. "I'll kiss you this time. A decision, instead of just falling into it, and we'll see what happens when it starts like that."

Justin managed a half-nod before JC's mouth came down on his, and then it didn't matter that Chris was fucking kicking the door behind him; this was the moment that reached across seven years of his past and showed him the path to his future.

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks to the usual suspects--C, A, and E--several of whom wouldn't be caught dead reading JuC on their own time, but who read draft after draft and patiently and politely walked through it with me over and over again.


End file.
